The long way home
by Flowerbird
Summary: Sherlock AU Sherlock comes back after two years and hopes that John might forgive him for leaving without a message. Johnlock, lemon in later chapters trigger warning: depression, drug abuse
1. Chapter 1

Two years, he thought- two years since I left and everything still seems familiar.  
But he knows that this was just an illusion. Mycroft told him that John struggled with depression since he left him without telling him anything. He moved out of their flat and almost dropped out of his studies.  
The whole situation weights heavy on his heart and he did not know how he should face John. Sherlock had had a problem, a drug problem and was absent for two years for recovery. To be fair, his brother forced him into the drug rehabilitation and ordered him not to get in contact with John until he was clean. At first he hated Mycroft for this, he denied every phone call from his brother and lashed out wildly if the nurses did not tie him down. After a few months he was calmer eventually and tried to make the best out of this situation. But he really missed John. He wanted to call, he wanted to write letters, but in the end he didn't dare to. And now here he stands, watching John from a distance, not knowing what to do.  
John sat at a table and read a book. He looked lost in the large reading room. Two years ago they spent almost every day here, John for his medical studies and Sherlock for his criminology. John was a very good student, not as brilliant as Sherlock of course, but intelligent and Sherlock didn't get bored in his presence.  
What he saw didn't seem right; he should be sitting there with him. Maybe he should just go to the table, sit next to John and hope he wouldn't go away. Hopefully he could explain what happened and John would understand and everything will turn out fine. In the moment he decided to go, a blonde girl appeared at John's table and Sherlock's heart skipped a beat. John smiled at the girl and hugged her.  
Damn it, he should have thought about this possibility. Why should John wait for him? Sherlock never expressed his feelings for him. Of course he gave no hints and in general he wasn't interested in things like love or relationship. But there was something going on with his brain if it comes to John Watson. And seeing him in the library (their place) with a girl, smiling – Sherlock felt replaced. No, he was not jealous. He was worried about John. Who knows what kind of devil this woman might be?  
Maybe he should call Mycroft. His brother knows everyone and everything; he would know who she was and what kind of relationship she and John would have. Nothing worthwhile to stay so he left with a last look at John.  
His chest hurts as he left the building. After this unpleasant situation he just wanted to go home. With rapid strides he hurried to King's Cross station and got the Circle Line to Baker Street. What did he expected? John was a good looking young man, almost a doctor and Sherlock was brilliant of course, but also a sociopath and a drug addict. Still after all this time Sherlock didn't know how exactly he became friends with John and why the other man would stick around, even if he was a dick. But after two years of silence it was not surprising that John would move on.  
He almost missed his station and jumped out of the tube last minute. Focus Sherlock, he told himself and was angry that something like feelings got him thrown off course. Mycroft would laugh at him if he would know about this. Slowly he walked back to the flat he had shared with John, just as friends of course. Both of them had their own bedroom and respected the privacy of the other one. Mostly.  
Sometimes Sherlock 'borrowed' John's laptop. But this was okay, John never complained about this. Sherlock also never mentioned when he found something inappropriate in John's browser history.  
He opened the door to number 221b and wasn't even in the house as Mrs Hudson literally jumped at him.

'Sherlock' she cried and hugged him, 'Two years! Where have you been?!'  
She looked at him in disbelief.  
'Come with me, boy, I have some tea for you.'  
And Sherlock couldn't refuse since she immediately dragged him into her kitchen.  
'Mrs Hudson, I am really sorry that I just left without a word. It was a hard time for me.'  
The old lady looked at him and put her hand on his arm.  
'It is okay, Sherlock, your brother told me, no details of course. But you didn't even tell John? You two were such a cute couple.'  
Sherlock struggled not to blush.  
'We were not a couple, Mrs Hudson. And I couldn't tell anyone, Mycroft had forbid it. I haven't talked to John yet.'  
Mrs Hudson sighed and gave him the 'Sherlock-Holmes-you-are-an-idiot'-glare.  
'You will call John Watson and apologize, Sherlock. The poor boy, he couldn't even come here and pack his bags. His sister came. You know that he came every day here and waited on the street for you to come home? This stopped a few months ago.'  
Mrs Hudson's words weighted heavy on his heart. He felt terrible, how should he apologize to John and how could John ever forgive him? What had he done? He stared in his cup of tea, feeling empty.  
'Talk to him, Sherlock' his landlady ordered him to, 'He deserves it.'  
He took a sip of the tea before he looked Mrs Hudson in the eye and nodded.  
'I know... I promise I will talk to him.'  
Sherlock went upstairs in the flat he had shared with John. Everything looked like two years ago.  
On second glance however he noticed that Mrs Hudson must have cleaned the apartment not so long ago; a faint smell of her household cleaners reached his nose. And not all of his belongings were in the right place.  
Of course… John's sister had been here packing John's stuff. And he was sure that Mycroft swept the whole flat looking for drugs he might have hide somewhere. Slowly he walked to John's room, put the hand on the handle but he hesitated.  
What would be behind the door?  
A part of him hoped that John would sit at his desk and learning. But the other part knew that John is gone.  
He opened the door and seeing the empty room hit him hard. It looked wrong. No books on the desk, no clothes on the chair and no laptop on the bed; just clean white bed linen. Sherlock sat down on John's bed and in this very moment he just hated himself. He hated how that he had been always looking for the next kick, started with drugs, didn't let John help him and letting his best friend down. He had always thought that he was brilliant, better than all other people, superior and now he realised that he was the worst. His selfish behaviour had cost him the trust and friendship of the man he loved.  
How could he ever make amends for this?


	2. Chapter 2

John Watson sat in the tube, reading in his papers. Mary left for her job and he was on his way to the St Bartholomew's hospital for his core medical training, currently he was in the ambulance. And wanted to make the best of this time he spent in the tube, so he used it for learning. But he couldn't concentrate. He couldn't help feeling that he had been watched in the library. There was this tingling sensation like someone was there.  
It is not Sherlock Holmes, he thought- don't hope for that, John Watson, he won't come back.  
He didn't want to create any false hopes again. This lesson he learned months ago in his therapy. Sherlock Holmes was like a shadow which followed him everywhere. Almost everything reminded him of his friend and even after two years he couldn't get rid of the thoughts. He missed him really badly. His friend was sometimes rude and unfriendly, but he loved him anyways.  
To strangers it might seem a very weird friendship, but John knew that he always can rely on Sherlock. Well... he could. It broke his heart as Sherlock vanished so suddenly. No call, no message, not even a letter. He didn't know if his friend was alive or not. The whole situation nearly destroyed him. He couldn't eat; he couldn't sleep and lived like a zombie for a month. As his sister saw how much weight he had lost, she brought him in her home and got him a therapist. Harry did her best to help him and after a few days he started to eat normal again. Every week he had to go to the therapist and even if he was not convinced at first, he slowly was getting better. He was not thinking about jumping off a bridge anymore or going back to the old flat, picking up Sherlock's drugs from his stash and getting himself an overdose.  
Not that he really wanted to do these things, but he had thought about them and this also scared him a little bit. Eventually he realised that he was stronger than this. John Watson would not lie down and cry for a man who left him without saying a word.  
After almost a year he moved from his sister's apartment to a small flat on his own. He was going back to university regularly and managed to get top marks in all essays. Life was getting better.  
Maybe he should visit Mrs Hudson. That thought was in his mind since a year, but every time he wanted to realise this, he got cold feet and didn't do it. It would just hurt to be back at the Baker Street. He tried a few times to get back in the flat and pick up some of his stuff, but he couldn't do it.  
Maybe it was now time to face his demons, but he decided to speak with his therapist first.

He got off at the Barbican Station. Under many curses he climbed the stairs and went to his workplace. It was snowing as he left the station. Great! That was exactly what he needed- something cold and wet. Only a few days until Christmas, he thought. Not that he looked forward to this; it would be the third Christmas without Sherlock. His parents and sister asked if he would come home but he was not sure about this. The last time was really awful and maybe he should just stay at his flat alone. Nothing felt like home without Sherlock and he hated himself for this thought. Get yourself together John Watson, he scold himself and went in the building.  
He liked to help people and he was good in his job. The only one he could not help was Sherlock Holmes. He knew that his friend took drugs and of course he tried to help him. But Sherlock found always a way to get high. Maybe this was a reason why John wanted to be a doctor so badly. He wanted to be a professional help for his friend. If he was still alive.  
John tried to find Sherlock, he went to every possible hiding place but he found nothing. He even called Sherlock's weird brother. But Mycroft haven't told him anything and John was sure that he knew exactly what was going on with Sherlock.  
Sherlock had to be alive. He refused to think anything different. And if he would find him, he was not sure how he would react. There was a time when he would cry in his arms, but now he got the feeling that he would beat the crap out of his friend.  
Maybe it was time to move on. He should ask Mary for a date, she was really nice. He met her in a pub, someone jostled him and he spilled his beer over her jacket. She was not angry and he offered to clean the jacket which she denied if he would go and get her a beer, too. They had a good evening and became friends. Maybe it was time that he started to see something different in her than just a good friend. He smiled. Thinking about her caused a positive feeling.  
'John', a nurse stopped him from his thoughts, 'the next patient is in room 3. He said he hit his head. There is much blood, but we are not sure what happened exactly. He refused to talk to anyone, he asked for you.'  
John frowned. Could it be-?  
He was going to the treatment room and stopped as he saw some familiar dark curls. Time stands still as his lost friend got off the examination table and smiled at him. Sherlock dropped a towel which he apparently had used to wipe off some fake blood from his forehead.  
'Hi John, I-' He was interrupted by John's fist which hit him in the face. In this moment John put all of his anger, sadness and frustration which accumulated during the last two years in this punch.  
'YOU!' John screamed and hit him again, 'How dare you coming back like this! Do you think you can come here and just say "hi" and everything will be fine?! I haven't heard anything from you, no message, no call, nothing! You abandoned me! Do you have any idea what I have been through?!'


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock was not even trying to defend himself. Every punch from John felt right, he deserved it. Finally he reached for John's fists and holds them down. Some worried nurses appeared but Sherlock told them, 'everything is fine, ladies. Just a little chat with an old friend.' They didn't look reassured, but John told them also to leave and they walked out.

'I am sorry. I know that this had been a hard time for you. I was an asshole.' He looked John in the eye a little bit afraid what he would see there. And he was surprised that John struggled to hold back the tears. He had not expected that he had hurt his friend so badly.  
'John...'  
Sherlock felt helpless, he gently put his hand on John's shoulder, but John shook his hand off.

'I don't want your compassion. Just tell me why you vanished and why you haven't told me anything. Where have you been?'  
There was so much pain in his voice. Sherlock took a deep breath and looked at John.

'I have been clean for 613 days now. Mycroft forced me to drug rehabilitation and he forbid me that I call you as long as I am not clean. And then I was getting better and... I couldn't call you. I didn't dare to. I was afraid what I should tell you and it was getting worse and suddenly two years has passed by.  
And I'm ashamed.'

John had folded his arms and listened with a stern expression.

'You tried to help me but I let you down. I was selfish and mean and I regret that I didn't call. I just wanted to protect you. You shouldn't see me in this situation. It was always important for me what you think of me, how you see me and knowing that you see me weak… I thought you would despise me.'

'You really think this? I was always there for you; I helped you when no one wanted to help you', said John and looked tired, 'why didn't you fight? Your brother had to force you. Why didn't you choose to go to rehab by yourself?'  
Sherlock looked down.

'Because I was so full of myself I didn't notice that I hurt you. I'm also in therapy to get rid of my bad habits', he looked John in the eyes and said, 'and I missed you. I was thinking every day about you and hoped that you can forgive me.'  
John shook his head.  
'I cannot forgive you, not now. I am in therapy for almost two years and this whole situation is a shock for me. But I don't want to lose a friend so maybe we can talk later and drink some tea?'  
'Yes of course', Sherlock felt relieved, 'maybe in the Pret near the Museum of London?'  
John agreed and they shook hands.  
Things will get better, Sherlock thought – and this time I won't fuck it up.

He had to wait for John's lunch break and went to the store already. Maybe he could calm down a little. Meeting John did not went like he planned but he was relieved that it was not worse. His face hurt but John gave him some ice to cool it. He was not sure if he needed it because it was rather cold outside. Damn, this guy is going to be a doctor? Sherlock asked himself – I'm lucky that he didn't kill me.  
He wanted John to forgive him really badly but he knew that this won't be easy. In the store he got himself a tea and waited.  
His thoughts wander around as he waited.  
How should he make everything fine? John said he didn't want to lose a friend so there is still hope, right?  
Sherlock runs his fingers through his hair. How would normal people show their affection towards other people?  
He was not bad at pretending to be normal: he had dates and also got a girlfriend that one time so he could get the exam questions. But this was different.  
John was important to him and he wanted to be honest. Losing him again would be terrible. With every other person he was confident but near John Watson he felt like a dumb boy. He was way to intelligent to not know what was going on, but he was not sure about if John might be interested.  
Each time someone asked about their relationship status and if they were a couple, John denied it vehemently.  
But on the other hand, none of John's relationships was permanent. It could be possible that Sherlock was not blameless for the failure, but it was not entirely his fault. If he thought about it John was really always there for him whether it was day or night. As soon as Sherlock messaged him, John was there. He did so much, Sherlock wanted to give something back. This time I will make time for him – under any circumstances, he decided.  
He did not know exactly how long he waited since he was trapped in his thoughts; he barely noticed that John entered the shop until he sat down with a tea and a sandwich.

'Are you daydreaming?' John seemed slightly amused.  
'No, I was just thinking.'  
'About how you tell me what happened the last two years?'

Sherlock felt caught. He took a deep breath and started with his story.  
After he finished he felt sort of empty but also relieved. He did not noticed that John put his hand on his arm during his story and was a little bit confused as he realized it. Maybe he just wanted to make sure that Sherlock would not disappear again, but it felt good. He took a swallow of his tea and looked at John.  
'Now tell me what happened to you the last years.'  
John crossed his arms and sighed.  
He told Sherlock not everything, some feelings and thoughts were better not spoken out. The struggle to tell anything at all was real. John was not good with expressing feelings especially if it was something that has hurt him. Sherlock felt that his friend did his best and did not interrupt him.  
'Thank you.' He told him after John finished and meant it.  
They sat several minutes completely silent until John stood up.

'My break is over. I have to go back. Here' He wrote something down on the serviette. 'My phone number.'  
Sherlock watched John go and pocketed the serviette right away.  
Of course he knew John's number and it was his old one, so he haven't gotten a new phone. Maybe he thought that Sherlock lost or deleted his number.  
But maybe this was a sign that he was still important to John if he wanted to be sure that Sherlock got the right number.  
There was a warm feeling in his stomach and he was sure that this was not caused by the hot tea.


	4. Chapter 4 (Lemon)

Luckily John had no further surprises this day and went home after his shift. Still not sure if this really happened.  
He should be happy that Sherlock was still alive or angry at him or something like that but he felt numb. In his apartment he sat down on his bed and burst into tears.  
It was like every emotion he had tried to suppress the last years was unleashing. He just sat there, his face in his hands, tried to calm down and not to sob. After his almost silent outburst he went in the kitchen and looked in the almost empty fridge. Great... He had to order something.  
The pizza arrived half an hour later and he sat down in front of the television while eating. After a hot shower and laying in his comfy bed John felt much better.  
His mobile phone vibrated and he snatched it immediately from his bedside table. It was a message from Sherlock and his heart skipped a beat.  
No! He should not been smiling, he would not forget what Sherlock had done. And he would not read the bloody message! He was not his servant.  
Of course he read the message.

 _Thank you for today. Good night – SH  
_  
John smiled and instantly regretted it. No! He will not forgive him this easily.  
But... Sherlock made the first move. This was something John had secretly hoped for. Usually he was the one who wrote first and was making time for his friend.  
He texted Sherlock good night and for the first time in two years he felt somehow a little bit happy.

John knew that he was dreaming. But it was a good dream. After months full of nightmares finally a good dream again.  
It appeared that he was in the countryside. The sun was shining and he could hear the birds. Two arms wrapped around his waist and someone was hugging him from behind. He couldn't see the face but he knew that it was Sherlock. Something tickled his neck and he started to giggle.  
'Stop it', he commanded half-heartedly.  
'You're sure?', Sherlock whispered into his ear and kissed it.

John blushed and a shiver ran down his body.  
This was not right, it shouldn't be felt so good.  
But he knew that this was something he always had hoped for.  
He turned around to look into Sherlock's face and expected so see someone else or maybe no face like in most of his dreams. But not this time. He looked in Sherlock's light eyes and saw his smile.  
He rarely had seen Sherlock smiling. Not his 'I-am-better-than-all-of-you'-smile but an honest smile.

Sherlock leant down towards John and kissed him gently.  
The kiss was getting more and more intense. John could feel Sherlock's tongue against his lips and granted him access.  
Sherlock's hands caressed his back,slowly moved to his front and tried to open his belt. Maybe it was dream magic but one second later John laid down on the lawn and his pants were gone.  
Sherlock was still kissing him and he felt his hand between his legs. His hand slowly caressed the inner side of his thigh and John's body was getting hot. He could feel that he got a boner and Sherlock's hand would soon be reaching it. A soft moan escaped John's lips and he shoved his lower body towards Sherlock's hand.

He wanted to be touched, he could almost feel Sherlock's hand at his cock and -

A loud beeping noise interrupted his dream and made him wake up with curses.  
John stopped the alarm and threw the alarm clock across the room.  
He moaned.  
Shit...did he really had had a wet dream about Sherlock Holmes?  
What a great start for the day, he thought.

_  
 _Just a few words from me: Thank you so much if you read this fanfiction. It's my first one and I hope you enjoy it._


End file.
